


The Queen

by justlikeabaroness



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, Semi-Public Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 02:55:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8233627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikeabaroness/pseuds/justlikeabaroness
Summary: Miran's favorite refrain is that time is fleeting, but especially for them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Inspired by [this article](http://www.soompi.com/2016/05/31/exos-xiumin-talks-about-acting-with-yoo-seung-ho-and-ra-mi-ran/). I tend to adore older woman/younger man relationships; they both have so much to offer each other. 
> 
> A/N #2: A "puff piece" is basically an article written for the sole purpose of praising someone or something.

Everyone likes to joke about the sheer amount of homosexual content in an average EXO video, and there's some truth to that, but Minseok likes women, too. _Really_ likes women. Girls are generally softer than guys, but they're also more unpredictable, at least the ones he seems drawn to. And he's had some great moments laughing with girls, messing around with girls, teasing and joking with girls, even fucking girls. But there is a difference between a girl and a woman, just as there is a difference between a boy and a man.

He can't help but reflect, as the last press conference for _Kim Seondal_ morphs into a polite reception, complete with cocktails. He's never imagined being in a "secret relationship" as an idol, always making jokes about the people silly or careless enough to get caught; Minseok is a careful person, and his deliberate nature has generally saved him from being at the center of any particularly legendary clusterfucks at SM. Yet this has just sort of happened to him, and he's fine with it. He's not even sure this is a "relationship" so much as it is happily allowing himself to be claimed, but either way, he has to work hard not to just gaze at the elegance of Ra Mi Ran as she enters a room, lest people stare and get ideas.

The more he looks at her, the more he smiles, and he has to look down, hiding his pride. Even Minseok's members have commented that he seems more comfortable with himself than he has in a long time, and when someone like her looks at him with favor, it's hard not to. It's not just the inventive, creative sex they have on snatched overnights or the discreet touches under tables at events; it's that Miran likes him, so he's been reminded that he can like himself, too.

He walks over to Miran now, doing his best to make it seem unplanned. She's dressed nicely, but he knows the magazines will probably call it frumpy or plain - she doesn't exaggerate herself or try to look younger. He kind of likes it, himself; she dresses simply not to conform to some bullshit ahjumma standard, but because, as she put it once, "Shoes should not have to be cursed at after they're removed."

She's making polite conversation with Lee Jongsuk and a few others, but he sees the flicker of relief when she lays eyes on him. Miran is excellent at small talk, like she is at everything else, but during promotions, Minseok's gotten familiar with how it frustrates her. Hell, the first time they'd had sex, she'd made sure to show her gratitude for the fact that Minseok hadn't wasted his time with flattery. She's past her expiration date, according to popular culture, and he's busier than any human has a right to be. Miran's favorite refrain is that time is fleeting, but especially for them. 

He doesn't contribute to the conversation, instead just smiling and nodding, keeping his hands at his sides or on his cocktail glass. The others laugh, and make jokes, and subtly patronize Miran, and she doesn't strike back, and life goes on. Sometimes Minseok will lightly put a man in his place, but even he doesn't speak up too often - too often would incite comment, and besides, Miran is more than capable when she deems it worth her time to do it herself. He says sometimes that queens don't waste time on roaches, and she laughs at his fancies.

Eventually, though, the crowd moves on, and Minseok is left staring at Miran, handing her a glass of something alcoholic. She breathes a thank you into a laugh, taking a sip and gaining some color back into her face. At this point, they don't need to trade comments about the inanities of events like these; they've gossiped about it before and nothing has changed. 

She does ask him, though, "Is it true you called me your soulmate?" 

"In a puff piece." It's the truth, though it doesn't change the fact that he did it. Half of him had just wanted to see what she'd say. The other half is too spineless to be honest with her.

Miran still smiles, that airy grin crossing her soft features, looking down into her glass. "You little shit." 

"Ah, but I'm cute." 

"You're going to screw up my chances of releasing an album through SM, you know." 

Minseok laughs. "Don't go through SM; it's a horrible company." He polishes off his cocktail, looking around. "Is the press stuff done?"

"Yes. At least I think so." 

"Good."

Minseok knows the MBC studio about as well as an idol group member should, but Miran knows him. "Don't be inconsiderate," she tells him. "I'm too old for janitor-closet quickies." 

"That's the first place people would look. Give me some credit."

There's a better spot, and both of them know it; an unused studio on the third floor that's essentially just a storage room. It takes almost a half-hour, but eventually they're there, away from prying eyes, and once the door is locked, Miran grabs his tie and kisses him, reaching for his belt. Minseok loves this part; he's happy to be the recipient of all the forcefulness she couldn't show, or wouldn't show, with the sexists downstairs. 

She pulls him to her, leaning against the wall, smiling against his lips as she kicks her shoes off, but it's more commanding than cheerful. Minseok sighs loudly when she undoes his belt and reaches inside his pants, doing his best not to rut pointedly against her careful fingers like a teenager. He's forever nervous about being too eager, but Miran is good at soothing those nerves, good at slowing his body down. Women hit their sexual peak at a later age than men do, or so he's been told, and he's never been a bigger believer in that than he is right now. 

Miran's hands are craggy but soft, stroking him to hardness in the most deliberate way possible, until he's groaning against her mouth. His own hands touch all he can, even though he knows it's more trouble than it's worth to get her dress off. Still, his hands graze across her face, her shoulders, reaching down to bunch her dress up around her waist. Miran curses genteelly under her breath as her fingernails run through her stockings in her attempts to get them off with one hand. "Who _invented_ these things," she murmurs, and Minseok laughs breathlessly, helping her stay upright with strong hands on her shoulders, even with fingers deadened by lust. Once they're gone, though, he slips a hand under the heavy fabric of her dress. Because of her patience, he knows how to find her clit, and he takes every opportunity to practice that skill. It gets Miran shivering pleasantly and arching against his hand, her free hand caressing the lines of his neck.

He's taken to carrying condoms in his wallet, though he never used to, and while it's been a pain in the ass to keep his members from borrowing money straight from the source, it's worth the minor inconvenience. He grabs one now, fumbling behind him to shove his wallet back into his pocket and eventually just letting it drop to the floor. He gets it out of the wrapper somehow, but she takes it from him, bending her head to suck a bruise onto his neck while she rolls it on. Minseok wants to gasp, to laugh; he's got schedules tomorrow and that will cause comment, but he knows Miran will just smirk. It's so attractive it makes his head spin.

Minseok is strong enough to pick her up, and Miran wraps her legs around him, one heel digging into his ass as she sinks down onto him. He pushes her back against the wall, rocking into her and enjoying the low murmur of pleasure she lets out before burying her face against his neck. Sometimes he wonders if she doesn't feel like she can be loud, or if she just prefers not to, and he decides it doesn't matter, given she sounds like the jungle cat people joke that she is. Once someone explained what a cougar was to him, it sort of bothered him - men who like younger women are just 'men' - but he does like to think of her as _his_ cheetah. Even though she'd hit him for his silly imaginings. 

They've fucked enough to know each other's tells - the tightening of his hands on her back, the way she starts using her mouth on his collarbones when the rhythm is right. He picks up the pace a little, both because her deliberate little bites drive him crazy and because Miran seems to like it when he doesn't treat her like she's breakable. She has to keep in shape, just like he does, and Minseok tries to acknowledge how hard she works by fucking her as hard as she wants it. He knows he's done well when she breathes, "Better," into his ear, latching her teeth onto the lobe gently and kneading it as she pulls her legs in tighter. 

Minseok shifts his arms, using his weight to angle deeper inside Miran, feeling a surge of pride when she purrs against his mouth. He appreciates that Miran doesn't yelp or make high-pitched noises; he's fucked enough Japanese porn type girls in his life, but women are more honest. The first few times they went to bed, she hadn't been shy about correcting him or guiding him, and he's grateful for it now, even if he'd been embarrassed at the time. Miran has a way of doing that; Minseok has seen a word or a smile from her change the minds of men and women he knows to be intransigent on the best of days. God help them, he thinks, if she ever decides to use that power for evil. 

They've learned through repeated experimentation that if he steps back slightly and angles up, he can almost get her off with just his cock, which is just dumb luck. That was a fun night; they'd argued about something stupid, winding up furiously falling into bed to fuck it out, and ending with Miran coming so hard she'd pleaded a strained neck the next day just to stay in his bed. Minseok smiles as he kisses down her jaw and neck, a sharp noise escaping him as she does something perfect with her pelvic muscles. He slips his hand back down under her dress, cupping his hand against her clit, and she jumps, biting down on his collarbone, then laughing, kissing, apologizing. He doesn't mind; it just means he gets to do it back, and he does, sucking a sharp bruise in the same place as his, hips arching upward, wanting her to get off first.

The annoying thing is that Miran knows what he's doing by now; she matches him adjustment for adjustment, arching her back at an angle that makes him moan like a teenager. She could easily lord it over him, easily mock him with that witchy, heavy-lidded smile, but she doesn't; instead, her eyes fall shut like window shades, and she grabs at his jacket, intent and happy and possessive. Minseok angles forward, grabbing her mouth with his as he starts to feel that familiar heat low in his gut, and Miran wraps her arms around his neck, one hand over the other like a vintage heroine, smiling into the kiss as his hips jerk, and Minseok tries not to moan into her mouth as he orgasms. He doesn't stop moving; it's a matter of pride that Miran get off just as much, just as well. 

As he comes down, he focuses his foggy brain, helping her off him and dropping to his knees. There are some things Miran hasn't had to teach him, and as he slides his head underneath the hem of her dress, he doesn't waste anyone's time, his tongue rolling over her clit, a finger slipping inside her. Miran moves her skirt herself, buries her hand knuckle-deep in his hair, and yanks hard when she comes a few minutes later, mouth falling open enough that Minseok can hear her thick breathing, grinding out silent whimpering into the air.

He tosses the condom into the huge waste bins near the back wall, turning back to her, though he can't help a twinge of regret as she surveys her ruined stockings. "Will anyone notice?" he asks, trying to think of what to do.

"If someone does, they won't speak up." Miran smiles, putting her shoes back on and kissing him gently, fixing his tie. Minseok cocks his head, but doesn't question. "I'll meet you at Sooyoung's."

He follows her downstairs, and she turns out, as he might have guessed, to be right. Miran sails through the room, smile in place, without a single comment, without even a look. He just knows there won't be any comments in the next day's papers, either. He trusts that woman. With his career, and possibly his heart. 

Minseok waits about twenty minutes before following her out the door, heading to a friend's flat where she should be waiting. He's still smiling.


End file.
